


coda: detention

by coconuthorse



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, squint for hicsqueak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconuthorse/pseuds/coconuthorse
Summary: “Will wonders never cease,” Mildred hears the quiet remark as Miss Hardbroom lifts her head up from the cauldron, and is that – a smile? Mildred blinks to make sure it's not a just a trick of the poor lighting in the dark lab, and – the possible smile is nowhere to be found. Wishful thinking, then.a coda for The Extraordinary Esper Vespertilio.





	coda: detention

When Mildred opens the door to the potions lab and catches Miss Hardbroom with magic flaring at the end of what she can only assume is a short, but spectacular staff, she can hardly contain herself. After the dressing down she'd received earlier, she never would have guessed HB, of all people, would have a staff.

 

_Guess they're_ not _only for wizards then,_ she thinks.

 

A very small, mischievous voice in her brain wants her to pipe up and say exactly that, but the rest of her is much smarter and is still rightly terrified of the deputy headmistress. Miss Hardbroom only just stopped threatening to expel her on a regular basis, and she wants it to stay that way, thank you very much.

 

“I'm here for detention,” she says, tiptoeing toward her desk and trying to act like she didn't see anything.

 

“Fine,” Miss Hardbroom drawls out. Mildred realizes she is failing at nonchalance, because HB asks with a dangerously slow turn of her head, “Is something the matter?”

 

“Nothing at all!” Mildred squeaks out, and goes and stands at her desk, clean cauldron in front of her.

 

Miss Hardbroom finishes scratching out notes in a thick tome with her brand new quill (which Mildred notices is still sparking from the end) before turning back toward Mildred.

 

“For your detention, you will be making a potion used as the base in most magical pain remedies. Start on page 47. And I do not want my laboratory blown up _again_ , so if you are unsure of anything, _ask me first_ , am I understood?”

 

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred nods earnestly.

 

HB nods back. “Then begin.”

 

Mildred flips the book open and starts to gather the ingredients listed on the page. Once collected, she begins to go through each step, muttering the instructions under her breath to ensure she's doing the right thing.

 

At one point, the instructions indicate that the potion should sit for 2 minutes before adding any further ingredients. She takes a quick break, setting her silent timer and then stretching her back and neck which are now sore from being bent over the cauldron in concentration. She reviews the page again, looking for any errors she may have made thus far – but everything seems to be in order. And she didn't have to ask for help once, which for her is unheard of in Potions. Looking at the top of the page, the number in the right hand corner indicates a low degree of difficulty for concocting this potion.

 

If she didn't know any better, she would almost think that HB was taking it easy on her.

 

She looks over to Miss Hardbroom then, who is working silently and with a practised ease over her own cauldron, adding ingredients, stirring precisely, scribbling notes in her book. _She makes it look so easy,_ Mildred thinks. She doubts she'll ever be as good a witch as Miss Hardbroom, especially where potions are concerned, but she is going to try her hardest.

 

Her timer flashes softly at her. Her two minutes are up.

 

Mildred gets back to work, chopping up roots and weighing seeds and mixing them all together. She stirs the contents of the cauldron the correct number of times, and knows she's completed her task when there's a tiny puff of smoke and the potion changes colour to a clear, bright blue.

 

She sits back on the bench with relief that for once, there's no potion-related disaster. “Miss Hardbroom, I'm finished.”

 

HB looks up from her cauldron at Mildred with a skeptical expression. “So soon?”

 

“I believe so.”

 

Miss Hardbroom straightens up and glides toward Mildred, hovering over her work. “It is the proper colour,” she states. She tilts her head down so it is level with the opening of the cauldron and sniffs. With a small tut of approval, she dips the end of her little finger in the potion and then tastes it. Her eyes widen slightly in pleasant surprise.

 

“Will wonders never cease,” Mildred hears the quiet remark as Miss Hardbroom lifts her head up from the cauldron, and is that – a smile? Mildred blinks to make sure it's not a just a trick of the poor lighting in the dark lab, and – the possible smile is nowhere to be found. Wishful thinking, then.

 

Miss Hardbroom turns and walks back toward her own cauldron. “Since you have produced an adequate potion, you may leave once you clean your station.”

 

Mildred can't believe that she did it right. She's giddy from Miss Hardbroom's praise, however faint. An 'adequate' from HB is practically a stellar review. She starts to clean up her station, a bounce in her step.

 

She's almost finished when she looks over to her teacher, still working away intently at her own desk. The potion she's created glows silver-bright inside her cauldron, sparks fizzing throughout, a slight floral scent emanating outward. It's beautiful, and Mildred can't help but say, “May I ask what you're making, Miss Hardbroom?”

 

“You may not,” Miss Hardbroom replies curtly, her gaze never leaving the cauldron in front of her.

 

Mildred's shoulders slump at the dismissal. She was doing so well too. She just wants to learn, she just wants to be _better_ , really she does. She doesn't know how she seems to muck it up with Miss Hardbroom every time.

 

“Sorry, Miss Hardbroom,” she says dejectedly.

 

Miss Hardbroom looks up at her then, and Mildred cannot identify the look on her face. It isn't anger or annoyance though, which she is very familiar with.

 

Miss Hardbroom opens her mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again, and starts speaking haltingly, “Do not apologize for your curiosity, Mildred. Curiosity is what drives you to learn. And properly applied,” her tone dropping to insinuate that her curiosity had **not** been applied so in the past, “It will help you to become a more... _proficient_ witch. For example, the staff you crafted is a -” she pauses, her face contorting into a slightly pained expression, as if the words she's saying are being pulled from her against her will, “good example of your curiosity and skill combined together to create an effective magical tool.”

 

Mildred cannot contain her smile. “Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,” she says, beaming.

 

“You still have much to learn when it comes to honing your abilities,” HB reminds her, “But I can see you are improving,” she finishes. She then gestures downward with her hand toward the cauldron.

 

“And to answer your question, I am working on a joint project with Miss Pentangle to present at a potions conference near the end of the fall term. This is my contribution.”

 

Mildred is elated to hear that HB and Miss Pentangle are continuing to stay friends. “How is Miss Pentangle?”

 

“Quite well, I believe.”

 

“And will she be coming back again this year, for the Spelling Bee?”

 

“I should think so.”

 

“And is she -”

 

“I think that is enough curiosity regarding Miss Pentangle, Mildred,” Miss Hardbroom interrupts, though not unkindly.

 

“Sorry,” Mildred repeats. “It's just, she was so nice to me last time, giving me Tabby back and everything else. It would be good to see her again.”

 

“I understand. Miss Pentangle has that effect,” HB says, her voice somewhat softer than before. Then with a small shake of her head and her shoulders stiffening, Miss Hardbroom's expression turns business-like, and Mildred knows that the conversation is over.

 

“Your detention is finished,” Miss Hardbroom says, and flicks her hand casually at the door, which swings open. “Off to the dining hall with you, then, we wouldn't want you to miss dinner.”

 

Mildred's stomach grumbles on cue. She walks quickly over to the door before pausing with her hand on the doorknob. Gathering all her courage, she turns back to look at her teacher.

 

“I'm glad you have a staff too, Miss Hardbroom, I think it's very pretty,” she blurts out, and then scampers as fast as she can to avoid any further reprisals when she sees Miss Hardbroom's eyebrows practically reach her hairline.

 

She does not see the fond smile that follows.

 


End file.
